"itchiness" poems
The saucy heated beat begins
The body and blood starts to rise
The sensual vibration moves
Shaking in the lower meat thighs
Vibrant lights turn off their burn beams
Crowded areas start to glow
I have that richness once again
It’s Electric Chronic-Techno
Arms are tight with a violent sway
Body smooth moves from side to side
The feet are twins glued together
Move into a straight liquid glide
Dance in a mind all becomes one
Gleaming body begins to flow
I have that quickness once again
It’s Electric Chronic-Techno
Take a chance and slide to the left
Then move the twitched out body right
Yell the dance passion out so loud
From the chest of full burning might
Everyone becomes a crazy
In a hot crooked little row
I have that twitchiness once again
It’s Electric Chronic-Techno
Sparked up veins become a robot
Bring into the fake or the real
All the breakers spin the limbs
Move to what the body can feel
The people dressed in colored lights
Starring in a music life show
I have that thickness once again
It’s Electric Chronic-Techno
Blast many bombs of the treble
Bringing in a canon for bass
The music drug enters the mind
Keeping at a speedy trance pace
Powerful injected speakers
Start a quick mind vibrating blow
I have that itchiness once again
It’s Electric Chronic-Techno
People embody together
The happiness like fire spreads
Millions of all colors dance
Laughing from the harmonic meds
A circular world of music
Close your eyes to move fast or slow
I have that sickness once again
It’s Electric Chronic-Techno
Jun 15, 2010
Jun 15, 2010 at 9:12 PM UTC
Red,
Stinging,
Peeling,
Flaky,
Dry.
It’s skin reborn.
Hard,
Unmovable,
Hot,
Painful.
A curse from the sky.
Irritating blotches
And the itchiness within
Make me cranky
As if boiling my own skin.
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 8:38 AM UTC
Not the topic of the gossips
or the spiders in your head
I'll watch over you unconditionnaly.
I know I am your nothing,
but you will be my everything,
not the main theme in your readings
nor the titles of your specialisms
in your heart, my name you're engraving
unconsciously.
I am not the reason for your smiles
or the itchiness for your laughter,
for you, I would walk a thousand miles
though bones broken hereafter.
© Sylvia Frances Chan
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 7:27 AM UTC
my love and devotion for you
was a wavering candle light
held to my chest to shield
from a wicked wild wind
it dripped wax onto my unsteady hands
scalding my fingertips
a foreign burn seeping into my skin
(my love) became my sole source of comfort;
a wooden fireplace
in the depth of a cold Chicagoan winter
thawed my heart of ice
and you breathed life into my lungs
every time you beamed at me
I found myself
falling in love with your smile
'til I had seen that same lopsided grin of yours
flashed to someone else
and so,
the fire in my soul gave way
to waves after waves of relentless jealousy
that which pounded
against the shores of my heart
carved away gaping crevices
in the jagged ridges of my ribcage
in one final encore
black acrid flames returned in full force
as I clawed off
my flesh and bone
tearing at the itchiness in my blood
and the taste
of iron in the back of my throat
here I am
another one of your victims
with third-degree burns
my nerves are burnt beyond repair;
I no longer feel anything for you
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 4:33 AM UTC
What is this stress
making my belly churn
my skin’s itchiness,
my pulse race?
Could it be from
the financial separation,
kids, career,
general obligation?
New starter to train,
bookweek costume,
book balancing,
bithday cake?
Oh wait, I see—
I can do these things,
all of these things,
with a smile and a grin.
It’s you, ex man (child) of mine
looking lost
that unravels me
too easily.
Aug 23, 2021
Aug 23, 2021 at 9:13 AM UTC
Sometimes I have these dreams where you are taken from me. Your parents are usually the ones to tell me, their faces contorted with grief and streaked with tears. I fall to the floor, and on my knees I sit, everytime without fail, I fall to the floor. I'm not sure if I could call the emotion in my chest pain because that's such an understatement to what's happening in my body. Imagine an elephant sitting on your chest, crushing your lungs so you could not breathe. And imagine yellow jackets swarming inside of you. Your heart is their nest and they drift out, provoked, stinging you over and over; leaving thousands of stabs of pain in your chest, all combining to form one kind of poison. It hurts so bad it almost has this itchiness about it. And then imagine someone smashing your head open with a hammer. No form of thought, nothing being processed. Just darkness. Just grief. And then my dreams change to being at your funeral. What does one wear, I wonder? to an occasion which marks the ending of life as they knew it. I would just sit there.. I can never hear anything, it just hurts so bad. I'm constantly crying, not even able to get a grip on reality. Because it couldn't be real could it? My biggest fear coming true. And before I wake up shaking and so hot but so cold at the same time.. My dreams shift to me driving alone in my car, with that dead expression I get sometimes. Always listening to music, always hungry but having no appetite, always thinking about you. And when I wake up from these dreams, I really do think about you. And I pray. Hard. Not even praying.. Just letting God read my thoughts. Because what would happen if I ever lost you? Oh my god.. I couldn't imagine. I would be absolutely nothing. Worse, than my most hellish dreams. So please don't ever leave me in any way shape or form. I couldn't do it. Not even in my dreams.
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 2:45 AM UTC
I feel it as I sit I feel it when I lay ...
The itchines inside me is fighting me today
stomach fightin pain thats always here to gloat ... yet itchiness takes over
a grin and not do bear ............
Carbs are overloaded yet count away we go
sugar fix awaiting to pain my bigger toe
spots are so a wantin on way to sprout my skin
the ******** even get me where!!!
privacy begins
Dia ..Dia ....betes leave me well alone
pick on someone evil
and make a happy home
Dia ..Dia ..Betes ...let me have some fun
maybe just a choccy bar or scrummy apple crum!!
dip a stick to 6.9 after loads a buns
Dia ..Dia ..Betes got ya on the run
Feb 11, 2011
Feb 11, 2011 at 6:30 AM UTC
I heard the neighbor-lady through the wall, she said,
"... yes, mhm ... you don't have to ask me questions ...."
Getting hot, perspiring from the shirt, I hate
the itchiness and lifted up my shirt, There!
" ... I have to go ... I'll leave the door unlocked ...."
Then heard a shuffle, sheets and door hinges,
then maybe her step down the hallway.
An unlatched! apartment--I've coveted less--
this and all the pomp, pills, and condoms I've stole,
oh I was up already, zipped myself away,
making the way between diaries and ***** plates,
oh already up opening my door--you guessed?
The hallway was empty; I went right
and door 54, was it this? I put my weight
to it, fogged the eyehole with my breath.
Hand to the **** I turned and it opened.
Augh! The managers who've stopped me,
once I was even tackled by a security guard,
was handcuffed, was once called "heartless"--
if only every door opened like this.
I was shirtless still, in fact, my hand strayed
was raised to my breast and I kneaded
the skin and tugged the hair: I entered.
It was dark and I feared the honesty of light.
I had a step to the next and her kitchen
came upon me, I saw the shadows of her home.
I wandered further as if walking an antiverse;
someone else the same template.
I wanted to find where I lived in her home,
where I sat and heard her often call,
where I imagined she curled phone cords
or refused to snore now matter how hard
I pressed my ears to the wall.
This is it? This is her bedroom,
adjunct to mine, a wall to separate--
she sleeps here.
I've got breathlessness and my hand is groping.
Does she have a closet or dresser? I will see.
She calls a boy by name, is he coming?
When is he? Can I hide here, see him?
oh soon. I'll know too soon, too.
I open the door. And she is staring back.
Her hand against the wall, the spot,
where I rock my body awake from
nightmares. To reach through the
plaster and steal the socks. It was a,
a, a great shame to be so looked upon
so, an inanimate gaze like a mirror's
that maybe can't see me, dunno.
I want to move further, can't.
Can't say anything either.
Mar 1, 2012
Mar 1, 2012 at 10:35 PM UTC
I want to avoid my ticks
I want to beat my voices
I know performing in a choir
Could be ****** hard for me
Because of my voices I have in my head
I am hearing voices that if I joined the choir I will get laughed at
I want to give it a go
But I need to avoid every tick in my brain
I have to avoid my hooligan who plays cool for yeah mate yeah Kids to not take too much affect
I have to avoid listening to my voices and concentrate on the choir
I know it could be hard because my hooligan can cause affect
You see I have to stop the crazy itchiness in my stomach when I think of being in the choir
I know I said I can do it in my next life but I want to give this a go but the medication I am on
I still have these voices in my head
You see I don't want to buy cigarettes for young kids cause that is so wrong and I don't want people to urge someone on to bash me up because I am a person I am not a robot or mechanical being you see I don't want to have itchy brains or itchy feet I don't want people to bully me around because dudes I am a person
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 4:55 AM UTC
beautiful morning
amber filtered . . .
with the forest fire smog
it's fine don't worry
it's been carried a great distance
to reach our city
a slight itchiness to the eyes
a slight betrayal with breathing being
a little harsh for some
beautiful morning
teased branches
their tinsel shadows
and a warm rustle
Aug 2, 2025
Aug 2, 2025 at 11:42 AM UTC
hi dudes
because of my previous two lives as greame thorne and patrick dunbar being brutally murdered and kidnapped
i have been treated like a little yeah mate yeah kid, you see what i was really saying was please dad let me be like your mob
but i was fighting him like a hooligan, you see the previous lives kidnapping turned me into a little shy boy to the world
you see i wanted to be famous, i ended up in the psych ward
i wanted to be like the cool kids, i ended up grabbing all the cool kids
you see i have been having problems ya see, like last year i was good in my play but this year i am having reincarnation hooligan itchiness in my feet
and i am still watching instead of doing, but i am still doing my art, which this picture is, of me reaching out for my proud fathers love
when he likes the discipline from the army and now i feel he stole the methane smoothie off me, to still treat me like a little yeah mate yeah kid
i want to have views on aaron clayton and aaa youtube tv and i want to have people think i am an interesting writer
i like watching the shaytards and bratayley, i know they are families, but they are cool families, and besides which, ivy gimbert, my gran is annie
from bratayley and my old school mate scott mcdonald who came back as my cat lucky is the youngest son on the shaytards
and i enjoy watching it, i am not trying to get down their pants, i just think they are cool families, but because of my last 2 human lives
i feel i will be begging all my life, and at least i can watch these youtube shows to bring back peace
i feel my dad is at peace now, since i saw his next and current life betty campbell was near jimmy barnes
and this picture is when betty wore a denim shirt and a pink ribbon on her hair
you see i shouldn’t have committed that crime back in 1990, because i could be judged what i watch on youtube
and i don’t want that, i am watching it for artistic purposes, and writing as well
and a lot of it could be religious, you see i can’t read minds, i ain’t doing that
i like famous people and with my gran and nan and dad and uncle ray all in their next lives, i feel they are at peace
and canberra residents say my father in his next life is still like them, and i am still a little yeah mate yeah kid
and this picture shows how much pressure i am under trying to reach out, and now, i am losing my cool streak because
i am going to tribunal hearings instead of photo shoots and acting spots, i am on a psychiatric order instead of a spot on ellen’s show
i want to be famous not be a hardened criminal
and the itchiness shows my laziness like a little yeah mate yeah kid
please read the words and examine the picture
athena is taking my hooligan out of me, bit by bit
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 8:24 AM UTC
suddenly filled with confidence
I forget the turmoil of that past hour
I rage with a pulsing desire for activity
and jump and finish quickly my tasks
suddenly filled with an itchiness
I want to accomplish like an emperor fresh to his throne
I lust for a chance to prove my worth
and I look for all the possibilities of this world, now mine.
Nov 18, 2010
Nov 18, 2010 at 2:41 PM UTC
I used to hate mosquitos.
The way the itchiness keeps me on my toes
And the way the rash grows
As I live with a doze
But at least they need me.
At least they craved for me.
At least they're attracted to me.
Unlike everybody else.
Feb 21, 2025
Feb 21, 2025 at 6:49 AM UTC
air deleted from the room
vacuum of mausoleum silence
violence played quiver on your lips
lids of eyes made twitches
itchiness blazed over my skin
thin words introduced
' i hate you '
mournful
cold said hurt true
ALLITERATION VERSION :
air
drawn deep
deleted from the room
vacuum
vacancy for silence
violence volunteers corrugations
across your visage
triage
composure
betraying twitches
itches blaze over my skin
thin words induced
' i hate you'
mournful
cold said hurt true
May 29, 2022
May 29, 2022 at 1:21 PM UTC
Here I stand before you, pleading that you bring back the heart that you stole
I was so naïve, I thought you cared about me but all you seem to care more about is you, and only you
I tried to love but failed
I do not have a heart,
It seems like a knife just struck me, left me with an agonizing pain
I can’t take this anymore; everywhere I go here you are, just like a fricking mosquito waiting to bite and leave me with the awful itchiness, itching until my skin turns pale
I cannot bear to think that my heart used to skip the beat for you and now when I see you it just turns sour, my whole body just aches
My heart is stuck somewhere in the wilderness, where I threw away
It was I who threw it away, not you
I tore it from my heart
I did not want anyone to be in possession of it and remained heartless
And so a heartless body I was, sitting in the shadow of darkness, fearless I remained
Until I choose to give it to someone who’s worth deserving, then it will remain where I choose to put it, out of the reach of vultures like you
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 4:36 AM UTC
Recurrent fixations
Brain and body stuck in the white noise of pain and anguish
Their scratched records echoing time
Memories returning needing to be demolished
Films of sweat gathering on the surface of the skin
Itchiness and jittery thoughts
Hallucinations brimming on the surface
Pale from nocturnal lifetime
The vampiric urge to ingest powders of delight and death
The soul stripped of all life, but just one more fix
A fix to bring us back to life
Oh life, you are reduced to one meaning
Awakening to surrounding grotesqueries waiting for memories of night time revelries to reappear and brighten the face before thoughts become sick and obsessed on one ideal
Life, a permanent black punctuated by brief moments of pure white light whose glow depletes with every jab in the squalid, stinking, putrid conditions
Sickness seeping into every pore
Twisted souls kicking and screaming torments at the day
Calling for gods to release the pain
Listening at the night for the fireworks of relief
Control relinquished to flowers of romance
Their seeds vomiting life back once more
Shaking hands and rapid increase in the beating heart
Licking lips in anticipation whilst muscle memory rituals of bent, blackened spoons and vein raising ties pave the way for temporary bliss of pure white light and uncontrollable pleasure
My distorted life of dishonest and fraudulent ways return once more
Sep 13, 2025
Sep 13, 2025 at 4:31 AM UTC
It happened for a reason,
Nothing make sense,
My heart is broken,
Torn apart from my yesterday's
Weeping all it's tears filling up the wells of the oceans
It happened for a reason
My eyes are weary for not seeing you,
My veins get weak whereas you not near
I get itchiness in my heart without your caresses
It happened for a reason
I felt in love with your smiles
Your eyes, Your heart, Your essence, Your skin, Your lips Your touches,
You've risen me from my tomb,
For i was dead living,
Without dreams, hopes and wonders,
You filled me with life and affection,
It happened for a reason.
Jun 24, 2017
Jun 24, 2017 at 7:12 AM UTC